We Talk Too Much
by the.eye.does.not.SEE
Summary: [Preseries] "I liked you a lot better when you were scared of me." Pre-J and O meet up on her turf but not quite on her terms.


_**A/N** : Inspired by a picture I saw on tumblr— takethisnight-wrapitaroundme tumblr com /post/149580726586_

 _Please enjoy!_

* * *

She shut her eyes, doing her best to keep calm and regulate her breathing. It would serve her well to stay in control of this situation, just as she had made it her habit over the years to stay in control of every situation she's been faced with. Usually she succeeded—it was why she had gotten this far in life, why she had survived this long. She might be a soldier who officially existed to do nothing more than follow orders, but she was an ambitious one, too; she wouldn't be steamrolled over, and when pressured, she wouldn't be made to back down.

But it was a little hard to hold onto any of those lofty principles when her pants were on the floor and there was a man's hand between her legs.

"Hurry up," she muttered, squeezing her thighs together and grabbing at his shirt—Why was he still wearing a shirt? Why was _she_?—in an attempt to wrest control back. "Let's go, already."

He didn't budge, only grinned as he bent over her.

"Be _patient,_ Army."

She looked up at his teasing, and as she met his smirking eyes she seriously contemplated spitting in his face. Or head-butting him. He had a big head, and he was a close target. She could probably do a good deal of damage there. Then again, if she physically attacked him, she highly doubted he'd still be up for having sex with her afterwards. She wasn't one accustomed to picking her battles, so to speak, but she figured this was one of the instances in which she might do well to start. Then again, she hated conceding ground. She hated conceding anything. Especially not in bed.

"Ease up," he whispered with a chuckle, bending down to kiss her. For the brief moment their lips met, his grip tightened between her legs, and she sighed into his mouth in anticipation of relief. Then he let go again and she groaned. "Your bunkmates are out, the door's locked, everyone else is tied up at that meeting…" He pulled back with a self-satisfied smile she was quickly learning was dangerous at moments like these. "We have time."

"I don't _want_ time," she snarled, pulling at his shirt again, so fiercely this time that she actually heard a couple seams rip. He complained, but she didn't bother listening. He was still grinning. He was enjoying this, having her beneath him, willing and waiting for his touch—and so he was taking the liberty of drawing it out as long as possible, apparently just to piss her off. _Damn him_.

This wasn't their first time—not by a long shot—but it was their first time _here,_ on her home turf, and that, in a way, was a bigger milestone than the original act itself. In all their time together—over a year, now—he had never visited her at her barracks before. They had kept their trysts confined to his base at Quantico, or off-site. As far as she knew, he had never once even set foot on her Army base before tonight.

And now here he was, crouched over her in her bunk, his hand between her legs, dangling the promise of sex gleefully without taking any real steps towards it. He still had all his clothes on, for Christ's sake. If they hadn't previously done the deed, she would've thought he was stalling because he didn't know what he was doing, but they had and he did—he _really_ knew what he was doing—and she didn't want to be deprived of that. He was becoming expertly acquainted with her body, and she hated to put a premature stop to that gratifying education.

She pulled him down close for a kiss, sliding the hand that had yanked on his shirt to the back of his neck. She held him tight, keeping him within reach as her other hand moved to cover his between her legs. For a minute, she kept him in the kiss, and guided his hand, and she happily lost herself in finally attaining what she'd been waiting for since he'd snuck in here more than a quarter of an hour ago.

It wasn't until his lips broke from hers that she realized his hand had slipped out of her grasp, too. She didn't know how long it had been gone. She opened her eyes just in time to see the overpowering look of satisfaction on his face as he watched her beneath him.

"Wow, you were right about being so self-sufficient, Army. Looks like you don't really need my help here after all…"

 _Bastard,_ she thought, just barely holding back from saying it out loud.

Instead, she grabbed his hand and returned it to where it belonged, capturing his mouth in another kiss before he could embarrass or enrage her further. They had only been sleeping together for a couple weeks now, but already, she had learned that she was not a fan of the effect their newfound sex life was having on him. It made him too confident. Too smug. It made him forget who was actually in charge.

But it was also, she had to admit, incredibly sexy. Therefore, she'd been letting the attitude slide for the better part of the last month—provided he actually got around to getting her off, which was something he was currently _not_ doing.

"Come on," she complained, moving against his hand that was, even with her encouragement, doing nothing more than resting between her thighs. "Enough teasing, I'm sick of this. Do what you came here for."

"I'm not teasing, I'm going slow. There's a difference."

"I didn't _ask_ for slow—"

"Yeah, well, you never ask for anything, Army, do you? And that's kind of the point here. You just do what you want, take what you want—"

"And do you want to continue falling into the category of things I want?" she shot back. "Because trust me, I can find somebody else!"

"One of your bunkmates, maybe?" His eyes lit up. "Hey, mind if I stick around and watch that, too? I bet you ladies get intense…"

She didn't hesitate this time—in a flash, she jerked her head back and then forward, smashing her forehead into his.

"Ow! What the fuck!"

He fell back onto his knees above her, both hands clutching at the top of his head. Hers throbbed in pain, too—God, it'd been a while since she'd done that; she'd forgotten how tender the skull could be—but she didn't move to cradle her injuries. Instead, she stared him down.

"I know better than anyone what you're risking coming here, Marine. So if you're coming here to fuck me, then fuck me. If I wanted to go through hours of foreplay, I'd ask for that, but I haven't and I don't, so—"

"So you're going to give me a concussion just because I won't have sex with you the second I walk in here?" He glared at her from behind the compresses of his hands. "Jesus Christ, as if I didn't already think you were insane enough…"

"I don't give a shit what you think of my sanity or lack thereof," she snapped back, reaching down for the hem of her tank top to yank it off. Once it was across the room, discarded along with her bra, she reached down for her underwear. Bigger hands beat her to it, though, and pushed hers away.

"Let me."

She opened her mouth to protest as he bent over her once more, but then he was hooking his fingers around the edge of her underwear, and there was nothing to protest. She watched from her place at the head of the bed as he rocked back on his heels, carefully drawing the bit of black fabric down her legs, and over her feet. After a second, it landed on the pile in the floor with the rest of her clothes.

She waited impatiently for his to follow, but then stopped caring about how much or how little he was dressed when he bent his head between her legs.

"Oh…" She couldn't hold in the sigh that escaped as he spread her open with the point of his tongue. One of her hands fell to his head, searching in vain for purchase amidst that close buzz-cut, while the other reached behind her, holding on fast to the metal bedframe of her cot. She whispered his name in desperate breaths, all previous annoyances wiped from her mind as she spread her legs wide enough so her ankles dangled over either side of the bunk.

He went slow and methodical as he did most things, and she fell quickly into a pattern she had adjusted herself to only a couple weeks before when they had started up this new wrinkle in their relationship. She lent her body to his rhythm—rolling her hips up to him when his hands squeezed her ass, arching her back when he tongued her clit—and she kept up a steady stream of verbal encouragement to go with it (though not all of it was coherent). He liked to know when he was doing a good job, and in this realm, she did not deny him praise.

She expected him to finish her off as usual—it was no secret that he got a very particular pleasure from watching her come from his attentions—and so when he pulled back without fanfare, she nearly head-butted him again.

But he merely smiled, making a show of wiping his mouth with both sides of his hand before leaning back to tug off his shirt. He did it slowly, and took his time with his pants, too, and she was about to scream in frustration when finally he was naked, and his body was pressed close to hers again.

"See?" he murmured, kissing his way up from her chest, to her neck, to her mouth. "Sometimes waiting isn't so bad."

"I'd hold your self-congratulations until you're actually inside me, making me come."

"So… In another twenty seconds, then?" he teased, laughing at his own joke.

He moved forward to kiss her, but she held him back with a firm hand on his chest and a glare that made most men scurry in the other direction. He merely waited it out, which only made the dark look on her face grow darker.

"You know what, Marine? I liked you a lot better when you were scared of me. This new attitude of yours is not doing your interpersonal skills any favors."

"On the contrary, I think I'm getting _wonderful_ favors from my new attitude." He removed her hand from his chest and brought it to his lips, where he pressed a kiss to her palm before leaning down once more. He kissed her again, and trailed a hand up her side to squeeze her left breast gently. When he rubbed his thumb over the hardened nipple, he watched her eyes close, and listened with satisfaction as the breath hissed out from between her teeth. "Don't be ungrateful now," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her other breast. "I could walk away and leave you here high and dry if you're not careful."

She smirked—as if he could ever bring himself to walk away in the middle of this. "Wrong adjective, dry."

He grinned, meeting her eye. "Is that so?" he wondered, as if he didn't already know.

"Mmhm." She reached up, taking his hand from her breast and trailing it down her middle. She watched his eyes fall closed the moment his fingers came in contact with the warm wetness between her legs. She did him a favor, did them both a favor, and pressed his fingers closer.

"I never get sick of this, you know," he confessed in a whisper, his eyes still closed. "No matter how many times we do this, I'll never get sick of knowing you still want me."

She bit the inside of her lip, grateful for the moment that he wasn't looking at her. He had been saying things like this a lot recently, getting more and more tender with her every time they were together. Usually she managed to laugh him off, but sometimes, like tonight, his words washed through her and didn't immediately drain away. It was a two-sided coin with them: he was addicted to the proof that she wanted him; she was addicted to how that made her feel. Strong and powerful, yes. But cared for, too. Looked after.

He might've taken a liking to delaying her pleasure for his own amusement, but at the end of the day, when he was inside her, he always made sure she came first. They never talked about it, neither ever mentioned it, but it seemed some sort of unwritten rule: he was thankful to be with her, and he would always make sure she knew that.

Truth be told, she thought as he drew his hands away from her to find a condom, she felt the same way: she was thankful he was here, thankful they were together. She was relieved, actually, that they had finally turned into something more than soon-to-be whistleblowers whose days were filled with intelligence gathering and whose nights were filled with clandestine strategy meetings. The change between them almost made their lives seem normal—or at least the parts like this, when they were together in bed, locked away from the rest of the world, seemed normal. The rest was still madness. But she was happy she had him to face it with. She couldn't think of a better partner to share the burden.

He went slow with her in bed, as promised, but she found as they meandered through the steps that she didn't mind so much anymore. The attention he paid to her never left even a second for her to think of anything else but him and what they were doing, and by the time it was over, she understood why he'd fought to make sure he could take his time.

"You came here to distract me."

He didn't deny it. Lying on the bed beside her, catching his breath afterward, he shrugged. "You were freaking out the last time we met up to talk about the next step in the Plan. I figured you might need some stress relief, so I thought I'd stop by and offer my services."

She smiled. "Oh, really?" she teased. "Because when you broke into my barracks tonight, I figured all you wanted was to have a friendly heart-to-heart."

"Oh, I did want to have a _very_ friendly heart-to-heart…" He turned to her and pressed his chest close against hers, making her laugh as their beating hearts lined up for a moment. Then she leaned back. She expected him to do so, too, but he didn't move. Instead, his arm moved to wrap around her back, holding her close so she couldn't move, either.

"I like this, you know," he whispered. "Being with you. I really like it."

She laughed to hide her surprise. "My, my. You get awfully sentimental after sex, Marine. You sure this wasn't your first time, kid? Are you gonna fall in love with me now?"

He stiffened at her teasing, the tender look in his eyes evaporating. "I apologize for enjoying your company," he muttered, removing his arm from her back and lying flat on the cot again. "I won't mention it again."

"Oh, stop. I didn't mean it like that. Don't throw a fit—"

"Well, if you didn't mean it like that, then why'd you say it?" She was surprised by the sudden ferocity in his voice. She wondered exactly what nerve she'd hit, but before she could ask, he continued: "I know you get off on making fun of me, but when I'm being serious, I'd appreciate it if you'd be serious too. If you don't want me around, saying these things to you, then tell me. But don't mock me. Don't belittle me. Be straight with me and say it to my face."

"I…" She balked at his words, speechless in the face of his anger. It was rare he ever got this upset with her over anything. "I'm trying," she whispered finally. It was the best she could offer him.

He nodded sharply, facing forward again. "All right then."

In the sudden silence between them, she held still, waiting for the next move. Would he lie here with her? Get up and go? The thought of him leaving now twisted her stomach with regret, and she marshaled herself so she wouldn't look at him.

"And I'll try, too, you know," he said after a moment, catching her off-guard. When she looked over at him in confusion, he offered her a guilty smile. "The teasing, I see how it's… annoying. I should know better and I'll stop. Lesson learned."

She blinked, not exactly sure what to say to that. He was apologizing for sex that she'd thoroughly enjoyed? She opened her mouth once or twice to say something, but no words came to mind. She wasn't sure, in this instance, how to be straight with him like he'd asked.

They lay in silence for a few minutes more before his watch beeped—an alarm, she guessed, about when to leave. He got to his feet and began pulling on his clothes without a word. When he sat on the bed to lace up his boots, she caught sight of a couple torn seams on the shoulder of his t-shirt. Looking at them, she decided those ripped seams would be the only casualties from this night.

"Oscar?"

He glanced over at her, mid-tie. "Yeah?"

"To be honest, I… kind of liked it. You taking your time with me before."

" _Liked_ it?" He frowned at her, forehead creased. He let go of his shoelaces, and turned around to face her. "What are you talking about? You head-butted me because of it!"

"No, I head-butted you because you were being a pig about my platoonmates. But the other stuff…" She shrugged, folding her legs beneath her. She was still naked, un-showered, and as she looked at him fully dressed before her and about to leave, she felt the sudden urge to pull him back to bed and keep him there for as long as possible. She wondered if this was what he felt every time she had visited him at Quantico. Every time she left, had he been holding himself back from asking her to stay?

"I don't mind you going slow," she continued quietly. "Not when we have the time, at least. And the privacy. But here, now…" She glanced reflexively at the door. She knew the rest of her girls would be back soon. He had to be long gone by then. "You have to understand why I get nervous and impatient. It's dangerous if you're found here, dangerous if we linger together. If any ties are ever made between us before we can explain them…"

He nodded solemnly. "I know, Army. I'm aware of the risks."

"That doesn't mean I don't… want you around, okay? Because I do. We just need to think first. We always need to think."

"I know," he agreed.

He held her eye for a moment more, waiting to see if there was anything else she wanted to say, but when she nodded at him that she was finished, he turned back to his boots. In a second, he was laced up and on his feet, grabbing his jacket from where he'd slung it over the far end of her bedframe. He watched her as he pulled it on, smiling at the sight of her naked body: she had one knee held to her chest, her arm wrapped around it and her chin resting atop it. He could see so little of her, and yet, he didn't need any more. For now, this was more than enough: stolen nights together, here and there, where they could escape the rest of the world and run away with one another—even if it was just to orgasm and back.

He was at the door, pressing his ear to the crack in the wood to listen for passersby, when she spoke again.

"All that said… If you ever have any other free nights that you want to pop up out of nowhere while my bunkmates are away…"

He caught her eye with a knowing smile. "I'll check my calendar."

She nodded, and gave him a small wave. "I'll see you later, then."

"Later," he agreed.

He put his hand to the door, and eased it open. The last thing he heard before he left was her usually quarrelsome voice whispering, " _Be safe_."


End file.
